The Pact.

Greed. A potent, disgusting thing. A sticky and clinging instinct that claws at his insides on the daily, that drives him forward on most days.

Or.. at least, that was how he had been. Before he had learned what the Pact truly was, what it really wrought forward.

Rorschach gives himself a moment, head turning toward the gleaming bones and golden edged tarot cards that spread themselves across the table. He may not have eyes, but he can see all before him, and all that lay behind him; the shame of his youth and the destruction he had brought down upon his home. It’s nothing but ash now, but he can remember oh so clearly the moment when his life had changed.

He had been young, foolish. A practical child even at the cusp of thirty, and even more so when he had turned thirty that night. Rorik, as he had been known then, was a greedy and snobby prince, eager for a long life and for power. To see more than he already could, which was more than anyone else had been able to see. 

Being born with the gift was already something grand, something celebrated through the kingdom, yet he wanted more. He wanted to be the one that saw everything, that could read out fortunes and futures to anyone that wanted them, to give them what they wanted, for what he wanted. For more fame, more attention. 

Young Rorik had been… impatient, on top of his greed, and had taken to the library within the great gleaming castle, reading and reading, trying to find the secret to immortality and power. If only he could get his hands on it, he would be world renowned! They would come from all over and grovel at his feet and give him offerings just for good fortunes and readings. 

It was there that he had found out about the Pact, that he had ripped the page out and taken it to his chambers and pored over the ritual. He couldn’t reach the shrine from here, but perhaps… he could perform a ritual here to summon Fortune. To bring them forth and sign their contract. The Pact would give him exactly what he wanted, and oh, he was ready to throw everything he could at Fortune to tempt them. He had gathered the ingredients, gathered the intel, and in his very own chambers within the castle, had performed the ritual.

Fortune was not what he had expected, coming forward with a grinning face and a paper dangling from the mouth of their mask. “Will it grant me power, immortality?” The prince had blurted, watching with wide eyes as the mask nodded. He had signed, without hesitation. “Beware, you will corrupt from this.” The warning had been too late, and with a cackle, they had vanished. It was too late to take anything back, and Rorik decided to go to bed instead, his heart hammering with an eagerness he hadn’t felt since he was an actual child.

He can still see it, even now. Waking up with a thrill, and setting up for the day. Rorschach takes in a breath, letting it out as he shakes his head, settling back at the cards and shuffling them with a simple reach of telekinesis. They dance around him, swirling in golds and blacks, flashing pictures at him and shuffling back into a neat pile in front of him, while the bones rattle just slightly.

The once prince can remember the power that had come from it, or so he had believed at the time. He didn’t know power until now, far into centuries of age. No. What he recalled was the fires that had eaten the kingdom, the war cries of those that followed the stranger he had gotten a read on. The one that had shown up only to terrify him. To ruin the entire world as he knew it. His world, his home. Gone. Perhaps if he hadn’t been foolish enough to tout about his power, maybe it wouldn’t have happened. But that was then, and this was now, and he has nothing but his shame to look back upon.